Hopefully, by now, you've had a chance to read the article on the front page introducing our new editor, Paul Bryant, to you.

My job has been to introduce Paul to what Texas football really is, here in the Lone Star State, and just how seriously we take it here.

First off, I brought my copy of Texas Football to start off his education into the seriousness Texans display about their high school football.

I pointed out that it was the magazine's 50th anniversary edition.

I pointed out that it did coverage on the two pro footballs in the state.

I pointed out that it did coverage on the major colleges in the state.

Then ... not quite halfway through the magazine ... we got to the high school portion.

And as we flipped through, page after page after page after page after page, Paul's eyes kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

He agreed with me then. We Texans are kinda sick about our high school football.

The magazine, on its cover, notes that it has coverage of 1,300 high schools. And it does list information on every high school in each district in each classification contained in Texas.

Class 5A has 32 districts, as does 4A, and 3A, and 2A, and Class 1A. Five classifications times 32 districts equals 160 football districts.

I didn't think, at this point, it would be polite to mention we have six-man football in this state, as well.

What is Texas football? I thought about this a lot during the day I was writing this week's column, and I think ...

Texas football is nachos, hot dogs, popcorn, sour dill pickles, and blo-pops ... all from the concession stand before you ever get through the first half.

The second half is reserved for frito-chili pie.

Texas football is hearing a lates-30s momma talking on the phone to a friend and hearing her say - in the same baby talk she probably used when her son was an infant - "I can't wait. My baby is gonna play football this year."

And saying it like Christmas was coming early this year.

Texas Football is having your hometown team make the playoffs. And the further they advance in the playoffs, the emptier the town gets on the night they play.

And the line of signs put up by the cheerleaders along the route to the game get longer and longer the deeper the team makes it into the playoffs.

Texas football is mosquitos the size of a small, single engine airplane swooping down on the crowd; millions and millions of moths dancing around the stadium lights; and the strange feeling there's something crawling down the back of your shirt.

Texas football is heat so intense that the aluminum floors, and seats, in the stadium feel like you could fry an egg on them or make a nice stack of pancakes with their heat.

And the players' sweat runs off them in such large amounts, that they are effectively watering the grass of the football field ...

... all of this in October.

So, Paul, welcome to the paper and to the upcoming season of what we call Texas high school football.